A coward has no scar.
Zimbabwean proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Old scar, new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
Old scar on the hand
New scar on the head
Same pain, different trouble
First came shock
Then hurt became blue
Blue’s gone leaving scar
Old scar, white scar
New scar, hidden well
When morning’s gone, nights always come
Craving old scar, leaving new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I'm A Coward
I ain't afraid of no lions
I ain't afraid of no grizzly bear
I got in a wrestlin' match with old king kong
He didn't even muss my hair
There's just one thing in the whole wide world
That make me doubt my stuff
I'm a coward when it comes to love
Now bring down old hulk hogan
King kong bundy too
Bring down old big mike tyson
I'll show them what a real man can do
They say the tougher' get goin'
Now baby that's when the goin' get tough
But i'm a coward when it comes to love
I'm a coward when it comes to love
I'm a coward when it comes to love
You can bring on a different sexy girl
At every night of the week
Buddy that's okay
But i start tremblin', my knees get weak
Whenever i hear her say
"do you love me baby?"
"do you love me baby?"
"do you love me baby?"
I got a muscle of iron
I got another muscle made of steel
But when we start kissin' 'n' huggin'
You may be the bravest man in the whole wide world
But buddy, that ain't enough
I'm a coward when it comes to love
I'm a coward when it comes to love
I'm a coward when it comes to love
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Good Night, My Darlings
When life gives a bum rap, don’t kvetch and don’t bitch,
for weeping solves nothing, it’s better to chortle
when forced to strike out once delivered the pitch
that tells us the game’s up since we’re only mortal.
“Good night, my darlings, I’ll see you tomorrow, ”
the famous last lines of Sir Noël, no coward,
are well worth recalling when, grieving with sorrow,
despair grows like weeds in the hearts when joy flowered.
John Simon reviews “The Letters of Noël Coward, ” edited with commentary by Barry Day (“Sir Noël’s Epistles, ” NYT Book Review, November 25,2007) :
The astute English critic Kenneth Tynan identified Broadway humor as being chiefly of two kinds: Jewish and homosexual. He might have called it kvetch and bitch, perfectly good types, but not really British. Noël Coward, who was only one of those two things, specialized in neither type in his oeuvre. He kept it all for his correspondence. So “The Letters of Noël Coward, ” edited and commented on by Barry Day, may come as a surprise to most readers. It abounds in both kinds of humor, as only Sir Noël (knighted very late in life owing to obstruction by Winston Churchill) could dish it out. But it follows like Day the knight that, given the editor’s several books of Cowardiana, what we get is much more than just Coward’s letters, however delectable…
As Tynan perceptively wrote, “Coward took the fat off English comic dialogue; he was the Turkish bath in which it slimmed.” In 1973, at a gala performance of the revue “Oh, Coward! , ” he made his last public appearance (I was there) . Leaning on Dietrich more than escorting her, he was asked if he enjoyed the show. Answer: “One does not laugh at one’s own jokes — but I went out humming the tunes.” On the closing night of his life, in Jamaica with his secretary Cole Lesley and his companion, the actor Graham Payn, he took leave with, “Good night, my darlings, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dead on the morrow, he didn’t get to see them. But we, happily, will see him in his immortal plays, as another famous Scotsman put it, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
11/26/07
poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Scar
A grey day in February
Some flecks of white, but mostly brown
Purple surprises riding in on a nerve
Begins to excite you before it settles down
It's after the knives and the sutures and needles
I'm left with an arrow that points at my heart
I call it the seat of my sentimental sorrow
Gone seems to be one of the sum of my parts
And the night is cold
As the coldest nights are
There's a wise woman
She comes from an evening star
She says: Look for the signs
You won't have to look far
Lead with your spirit and follow
Follow your scar
A man I knew once said he wanted to see me
I said I'd been sick but was on the mend
I told him a few of the overall details
He said: That's too bad
And he's never called me again
What a gift in disguise that poor little puppy
So scared of misfortune and always on guard
A big man will love you
Even more when you're hurtin'
And a really big man
Loves a really good scar
Cause the dawn breaks
And it's breaking your heart
There's a wise woman
She sits at the end of the bar
She says: Look for the signs
You won't have to look far
Lead with your spirit and follow
Follow your scar
A grey day in February
Some flecks of white, but mostly brown
The world has tilted but
The world has expanded
And the world has turned
My world upside down
Cause the night is warm and all full of stars
There's a wise woman
She's moved right into my heart
She says: Look for the signs
You won't have to look far
Lead with your spirit and follow
Follow
Follow your scar
English translation of Gaelic:
[...] Read more
song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Odyssey: Book 19
Ulysses was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby
with Minerva's help he might be able to kill the suitors. Presently he
said to Telemachus, "Telemachus, we must get the armour together and
take it down inside. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you
have removed it. Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of
the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went
away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more
particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel
over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may
disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes
tempts people to use them."
Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called
nurse Euryclea and said, "Nurse, shut the women up in their room,
while I take the armour that my father left behind him down into the
store room. No one looks after it now my father is gone, and it has
got all smirched with soot during my own boyhood. I want to take it
down where the smoke cannot reach it."
"I wish, child," answered Euryclea, "that you would take the
management of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after
all the property yourself. But who is to go with you and light you
to the store room? The maids would have so, but you would not let
them.
"The stranger," said Telemachus, "shall show me a light; when people
eat my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come from."
Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their
room. Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets,
shields, and spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold
lamp in her hand that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon
Telemachus said, "Father, my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls,
with the rafters, crossbeams, and the supports on which they rest
are all aglow as with a flaming fire. Surely there is some god here
who has come down from heaven."
"Hush," answered Ulysses, "hold your peace and ask no questions, for
this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here
to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief
will ask me all sorts of questions."
On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the
inner court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his
bed till morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering
on the means whereby with Minerva's help he might be able to kill
the suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana,
and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near
the fire in her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had
a footstool all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was
covered with a thick fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came
from the women's room to join her. They set about removing the
tables at which the wicked suitors had been dining, and took away
the bread that was left, with the cups from which they had drunk. They
emptied the embers out of the braziers, and heaped much wood upon them
[...] Read more
poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Scars of the ego.
The fall of the leaf is the scar of the tree.
The scar indicates the tree’s seasoned strength.
The loss of the love is the scar of the ego.
The scar reminds the ego of its worth
23.09.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Good Sister/bad Sister
Good sister bad sister
Better burn that dress sister
Scar tissue blood blister
Suck upon the dregs sister whoa
I try but I cant and I want to so bad and
Good sister bad sister
Your different from the rest sister
Choke strangle rip kiss her
Sell me down the river sister whoa
I try but I cant and I want to so bad and
I try and I try and I try and
Cmere and sit down just for a sec please just when your done
You choking on big black bloody mouthfulls of it
Pet me and I am your dog descent
Your choking on your candy flesh
Ill be the biggest scar in your back
Run down it jagged and make it back
Ill be the biggest dick that you ever had
Hey want it back you want it back you want it
Good sister bad sister
Better tell me what you want sister
Never wash your back sister
Even you cannot resist her whoa
I try but I cant and I want to so bad and
I try and I try
She comes to crucify all this earlies
And sugar comes from her other race
Ill be the biggest scar
Run down and jagged and make it a bly
Ill be the biggest star in your sky
You want it back you want it back you want it back
She is incredulous
Choking on her candy flesh
Ill be the biggest scar in your back
Run down and jagged and make it back
Ill be the biggest dick that you ever had
You want it back you want it back you want it back
song performed by Hole
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Philharmonic
Sit down, and watch me.
I want you, to see me.
As your tv
As your tv
As your tv
Touched by your static.
You see right, right through me
As your tv
As your tv
As your tv
What you hide is what you are,
Have what it takes to be a star, come on.
You say theres beauty in a scar,
Now what a stupid thing you are, sometimes.
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
[Is that what you want?]
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
[Is that what you want?]
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
[Is that what you want?]
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
Slow down.
Zoom in.
Rewind.
Do you get the picture?
Philharmonic.
Philharmonic.
As your tv
As your tv
What you hide is what you are,
Have what it takes to be a star, come on.
You say theres beauty in a scar,
Now what a stupid thing you are, sometimes.
Philharmonic.
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
Philharmonic.
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
Philharmonic.
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
Philharmonic.
After you get what you want you dont want it anymore.
Philharmonic.
Philharmonic.
What you hide is what you are,
What it takes to be a star, come on.
You say theres beauty in a scar,
Now what a stupid thing you are, sometimes.
What you hide is what you are,
What it takes to be a star, come on.
You say theres beauty in a scar,
[...] Read more
song performed by Zeromancer
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Thick skins
A scar for the scar is bravery.
To ignore a scar is chivalry.
To forgive it is exemplary.
Then, you must have a thick skin
To be branded a coward.
30.06.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Gotham - Book II
How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,
Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,
At the pure waters of the living well,
Beside whose streams the Muses love to dwell!
Verse is with them a knack, an idle toy,
A rattle gilded o'er, on which a boy
May play untaught, whilst, without art or force,
Make it but jingle, music comes of course.
Little do such men know the toil, the pains,
The daily, nightly racking of the brains,
To range the thoughts, the matter to digest,
To cull fit phrases, and reject the rest;
To know the times when Humour on the cheek
Of Mirth may hold her sports; when Wit should speak,
And when be silent; when to use the powers
Of ornament, and how to place the flowers,
So that they neither give a tawdry glare,
'Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air;'
To form, (which few can do, and scarcely one,
One critic in an age, can find when done)
To form a plan, to strike a grand outline,
To fill it up, and make the picture shine
A full and perfect piece; to make coy Rhyme
Renounce her follies, and with Sense keep time;
To make proud Sense against her nature bend,
And wear the chains of Rhyme, yet call her friend.
Some fops there are, amongst the scribbling tribe,
Who make it all their business to describe,
No matter whether in or out of place;
Studious of finery, and fond of lace,
Alike they trim, as coxcomb Fancy brings,
The rags of beggars, and the robes of kings.
Let dull Propriety in state preside
O'er her dull children, Nature is their guide;
Wild Nature, who at random breaks the fence
Of those tame drudges, Judgment, Taste, and Sense,
Nor would forgive herself the mighty crime
Of keeping terms with Person, Place, and Time.
Let liquid gold emblaze the sun at noon,
With borrow'd beams let silver pale the moon;
Let surges hoarse lash the resounding shore,
Let streams meander, and let torrents roar;
Let them breed up the melancholy breeze,
To sigh with sighing, sob with sobbing trees;
Let vales embroidery wear; let flowers be tinged
With various tints; let clouds be laced or fringed,
They have their wish; like idle monarch boys,
Neglecting things of weight, they sigh for toys;
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Don Juans Reckless Daughter
Im don juans reckless daughter
I came out two days on your tail
Those two bald-headed days in november
Before the first snowflakes sail
Out on the vast and subtle plains of mystery
A split tongue spirit talks
Noble as a nickel chief
Striking up an old juke box
And he says:
Snakes along the railroad tracks.
He says, eagles in jet trails ...
He says, coils around feathers and talons on scales ...
Gravel under the belly plates ...
He says, wind in the wings ...
He says, big bird dragging its tail in the dust ...
Snake kite flying on a string.
I come from open prairie
Given some wisdom and a lot of jive!
Last night the ghosts of my old ideas
Reran on channel five
And it howled so spooky for its eagle soul
I nearly broke down and cried
But the split tongue spirit laughed at me
He says, your serpent cannot be denied.
Our serpents love the whisky bars
They love the romance of the crime
But didnt I see a neon sign
Fester on your hotel blind
And a country road come off the wall
And swoop down at the crowd at the bar
And put me at the top of your danger list
Just for being so much like you are!
Youre a coward against the altitude--
Youre a coward against the flesh--
Coward--caught between yes and no
Reckless this time on the line for yes, yes, yes!
Reckless brazen in the play
Of your changing traffic lights
Coward--slinking down the hall
To another restless night
As we center behind the eight ball
As we rock between the sheets
As we siphon the colored language
Off the farms and the streets
Here in good-old-god-save-america
The home of the brave and the free
We are all hopelessly oppressed cowards
Of some duality
Of restless multiplicity
(oh say can you see)
[...] Read more
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The So Called Coward And The Traitor
A traitor to his Country many of him do say
He never enlisted to fight in the war far away
But he marches in every anti war parade
Some say cowards are born they cannot be made.
But some have strange ways of defining a coward
By his higher self the man has been empowered
His dad died in war a hero but the son to war said no
In making a stand courage he has to show.
In not going to war he did not rob a young wife
Of the father of her children and the love of her life
And robbed a mother of her beloved son
Many call him a coward and a traitor yet he's not harmed anyone.
The so called coward and the traitor goes out of his way
To help the poor old lady frail, vulnerable and gray
Helps her out when she needs him and never asks her for pay
The young man is my hero of him she does say.
The last post will never be played at his grave
But the so called coward and the traitor in truth is quite brave
He did not go to war distant from his Homeland
And for what he believes in he does make a stand.
poem by Francis Duggan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Depression
Oh horid ways of emotions.
All actions tryed are of no use.
All actions acted are usless.
No matter the action its all in vain.
I cant go anywhere
Running is usless and of no point.
I cant go no where.
Even if the option were open.
Oh depression horrible depression
Hold me back ever more
Pin me down with the force of your grace.
Depression my one true friend.
A sad dark and lonely place.
Sit upon the walls.
Its so sad and vacant.
Vacant like my happy days.
Depression takes me
More and more each day.
Feeding on my sadness.
This is an everelasting scar
A scar not to heal
A scar not to mend.
It will bring me to my end
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Scar
There is a scar that marks me now
that will not go away
It will be my constant reminder
of how I let you play
upon my heartstrings that were taut
tightly stretched upon my breast
plucked by fingers that I loved
that now are put to rest
But I will endure this marking
and I will endure the pain
For dreams can dwindle slowly
though the scar will ere remain
The slackened strings will not vibrate
They will become quite still
The even breathing will return
but the scar's the bitter pill
poem by Edwina Reizer
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
In Closing
STEP BACK INSIDE THE LIE AGAIN
YOU'LL FIND YOU'RE WEARING THIN
KILLING THE SYMPATHY AS YOU TAKE ANOTHER SWING AT ME
NOW FIGHTING YOUR INNER SELF AGAIN
LOSING TO WHAT YOU FEEL
SHIELDED BEHIND THE LIES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL REAL
NOW IT'S OVER AND I DON'T FEEL A THING
BUT YOU'RE TRYING TO BREAK THE SCAR AGAIN
YOUR SPIRIT IS BLEEDING AS YOU GRIN
BUT YOUR BRIDGE KEEPS ON BURNING AT BOTH ENDS
IN YOUR MIND
THE ENDING SEEMS TO BE SO FAR FROM WHAT YOU NEED
TAKE BACK THE MEMORIES AS YOU SMILE TO HIDE THE PAIN FROM ME
NOW SHUT DOWN THE CURIOSITY THAT BRINGS YOU HERE AGAIN
NO SENSE OF PURITY AS YOU TRY TO TAKE THE LIFE FROM ME NOW
IT'S OVER AND I DON'T FEEL A THING
BUT YOU'RE TRYING TO BREAK THE SCAR AGAIN
YOUR SPIRIT IS BLEEDING AS YOU GRIN
BUT YOUR BRIDGE KEEPS ON BURNING AT BOTH ENDS
NOTHING THAT YOU EVER SAY COULD EVER POSSIBLYERASE ALL THE HATEFUL THINGS YOU DID
AND NOW I'M THROUGH WITH YOU
NOTHING THAT YOU EVER SAY COULD EVER POSSIBLY ERASE ALL THE HATEFUL THINGS YOU DID
AND NOW I'M THROUGH WITH YOU
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
IT'S OVER AND I DON'T FEEL A THING
BUT YOU'RE TRYING TO BREAK THE SCAR AGAIN
YOUR SPIRIT IS BLEEDING AS YOU GRIN
BUT YOUR BRIDGE KEEPS ON BURNING AT BOTH ENDS
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
song performed by 12 Stones
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Magdalena
Writers: danny okeefe
Magdalena sits in her chair
Speaking on the mass
She talks in splice and splinters
She laughs not breaking glass
She said that she would have me
Spirit her away
Stealing all my images
Till theres nothin left to say
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
She tells me that she wants me
Then she tells me not to bother
She tells me that I couldnt hold
A candle to her father
She knows that shes got me
When I start to rave about
Shell justsmile and flash her eyes
And blow the candle out
Oh, magdalena
Oh, ho, ho, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Magdalena lying there
Could make a dancer stumble
Make a preacher bite his tongue
And leave him with a mumble
And if you think Im crazy babe
Or that Im kiddin you
Just pay your dues and lose your blues
When she gets her tongue in you
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Well, I cant be forgotten
And I cant be ignored
You find me with my poems
And my songs
But if upon your journey youre turning to l.a.
Wont you take this little red-haired girl aong?
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
[...] Read more
song performed by Leo Sayer
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Endymion: Book II
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm!
All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,
And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:
For others, good or bad, hatred and tears
Have become indolent; but touching thine,
One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine,
One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.
The woes of Troy, towers smothering o'er their blaze,
Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades,
Struggling, and blood, and shrieks--all dimly fades
Into some backward corner of the brain;
Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain
The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet.
Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat!
Swart planet in the universe of deeds!
Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds
Along the pebbled shore of memory!
Many old rotten-timber'd boats there be
Upon thy vaporous bosom, magnified
To goodly vessels; many a sail of pride,
And golden keel'd, is left unlaunch'd and dry.
But wherefore this? What care, though owl did fly
About the great Athenian admiral's mast?
What care, though striding Alexander past
The Indus with his Macedonian numbers?
Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers
The glutted Cyclops, what care?--Juliet leaning
Amid her window-flowers,--sighing,--weaning
Tenderly her fancy from its maiden snow,
Doth more avail than these: the silver flow
Of Hero's tears, the swoon of Imogen,
Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den,
Are things to brood on with more ardency
Than the death-day of empires. Fearfully
Must such conviction come upon his head,
Who, thus far, discontent, has dared to tread,
Without one muse's smile, or kind behest,
The path of love and poesy. But rest,
In chaffing restlessness, is yet more drear
Than to be crush'd, in striving to uprear
Love's standard on the battlements of song.
So once more days and nights aid me along,
Like legion'd soldiers.
Brain-sick shepherd-prince,
What promise hast thou faithful guarded since
The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows
Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows?
Alas! 'tis his old grief. For many days,
Has he been wandering in uncertain ways:
[...] Read more
poem by John Keats
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
The scatter'd rout return and rally,
Surround the place; the Knight does sally,
And is made pris'ner: Then they seize
Th' inchanted fort by storm; release
Crowdero, and put the Squire in's place;
I should have first said Hudibras.
Ah me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile
And leer upon him for a while,
She'll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say,
I' th' ditty call'd, What if a Day?
For HUDIBRAS, who thought h' had won
The field, as certain as a gun;
And having routed the whole troop,
With victory was cock a-hoop;
Thinking h' had done enough to purchase
Thanksgiving-day among the Churches,
Wherein his mettle, and brave worth,
Might be explain'd by Holder-forth,
And register'd, by fame eternal,
In deathless pages of diurnal;
Found in few minutes, to his cost,
He did but count without his host;
And that a turn-stile is more certain
Than, in events of war, dame Fortune.
For now the late faint-hearted rout,
O'erthrown, and scatter'd round about,
Chas'd by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the dogs, who, in pursuit
Of the Knight's victory, stood to't,
And most ignobly fought to get
The honour of his blood and sweat,)
Seeing the coast was free and clear
O' th' conquer'd and the conqueror,
Took heart again, and fac'd about,
As if they meant to stand it out:
For by this time the routed Bear,
Attack'd by th' enemy i' th' rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat,
[...] Read more
poem by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
IV. Tertium Quid
True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
This Is Me
How can you just say that you love me yet to leave you alone
You said these walls were here to protect us, but it's still not a home
All these questions that are burning inside with answers I'll never know
'Cause you're the only one who knows how you feel, but you're not letting me know
What is it, love
Can I help you
I see where this has gone and what it's coming to
I look to you
Enough
Chorus:
I can't believe this is me
Where I can touch and not feel you
I feel I'm lost in a dream
Between what is and what seems
Having to face not to need you
You know you owe it to me
How can you think we don't need you
I'm tired of running away from my fear and the day
That our life has no meaning
Without a word or a reason
Like a coward, you're leaving
Sitting here inside an empty room that was filled with us
Only boxes to define what was left of what we used to call love
It's sad that after all of this time, you have nothing to say
Ooh, and the only thing that you could've done, you choose to walk away
I'm thankful, love
I don't hate you
'Cause I'd rather live and know than what you put me through
I needed you
Somehow
I can't believe this is me
Where I can touch and not feel you
I feel I'm lost in a dream
Between what is and what seems
Having to face not to need you
How could you do this to me
How could you think we don't need you
I'm tired of running away from the fear and the day
That our life has no meaning
Without a word or a reason
Like a coward, you're leaving
I can't believe this is me
I wasn't wont to believe you
I feel I'm lost in a dream
Between what is and what seems
Having to face not to need you
How could you do this to me
How could you think we don't need you
I'm tired of running away from my fear of the day
That our life has no meaning
[...] Read more
song performed by Jennifer Lopez
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!